


Convergence

by amuk



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn’t know which is harder, missing the living or the dead. -- Sakura, Tsunade, Rin</p>
            </blockquote>





	Convergence

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt/Theme: Missing by Ellegarden, Team Seven, Team Minato, Sannin  
> A/N: Well, this was finished a while ago and was molding in my laptop, waiting for me to remember about it.

The Past:

  
“You’re an idiot.”  
  
Jiraiya doesn’t reply, instead clenching his teeth and straining his arm. His face turns a dark shade of red and she briefly wonders how long it will take before it changes purple. Considering how ragged his breathes are, coming in short puffs, and the squint of his eyes, Tsunade thinks it won’t take long at all.  
  
Orochimaru snorts from where he’s sitting, looking up for the first time since they’ve got here. Perched slightly higher than them, his hand continues to scrub his kunai as he watches them. “That’s not new.”  
  
This time Jiraiya grunts. “Keep....talking....” Each word is forced out and she thinks she should be trying harder, just so it looks like he has a chance.   
  
But she has never been (too) cruel and instead slams his hand down on the rock with ease. Which is cruel in its own way—he should have known better than to challenge her in arm-wrestling. The yelp he gives after is satisfying.  
  
“Were you trying to break it?” he winces as he rubs his shoulder, his arm smarting.   
  
“Of course not. We have a mission tomorrow. Like hell I’d want to heal your arm.” She smirks. “Or deal with your whining.”   
  
A twig snaps and immediately three sets of eyes dart toward it.  Two pairs of hands reach for their kunai, the third makes a fist. No one breathes. She calculates quickly which exit would be best and turns her foot slightly toward the large stream nearby.   
  
A hare darts out of the bushes and into a hole.    
  
“Heh,” Jiraiya  snorts as he loosens his grip and she relaxes slightly. “Crap, that could have been dinner.”  
  
“Not that we could light a fire.”  
  
Even here, she can’t forget the war is nearby, just waiting for her to return. Sitting down beside him, she releases the tension in her shoulders, her body just waiting for combat.  
  
It’s late evening when Orochimaru speaks once more, offering to take the first watch. In the setting sun, she turns to face him, his sword glinting in the light as he sharpened it. This entire afternoon he has been a ghost, barely here, his focus entirely on his weapons. For the past month, she has been on a two-person team.  
  
She shivers at the thought, at the distance that she has grown to expect. War changes everything and she should have known better than to think her team was exempt from it.

  
-x-  


The present:  
   
They only stop when they hit the clearing, remembering the safe spot’s location by heart. The journey here is a blur of colour and sound, nothing definite, nothing concrete. Just the beating of her heart and the ragged breath of her lungs. She can still hear the man’s voice, still hear Obito’s scream, and immediately she is on her knees, scouting the location.  
  
Kakashi remains standing, almost crouched as his (Obito’s) eyes spin wildly. Nothing about him is still, not anymore, and they move in careful steps, one facing forward and the other back. Each tree is a potential enemy, each shadow an ambush, and it’s only when they find the small shelter of logs that they finally let themselves rest.  
  
“He’s gone,” Rin mutters to him, to herself. “He’s gone.”   
  
And that is the hardest part to believe. She curls into herself as she sits there, her back against a rock. Minato had showed them this location earlier—was it really only a week ago?—telling them to hide there if necessary.   
  
_Safe houses are important. Especially in a war._ I’ll find you, he had promised. His eyes had been serious, the weight of a thousand battles in them.  
  
 _Just hide here._  
  
 _Like rats?_ Obito had laughed at the warning, crawling through the mess of uprooted trees and rocks. Sensei’s lips had quirked at the comment while Kakashi stood annoyed in the background. Stupid as it was, she couldn’t help but laugh. _More like an ant_.  
  
(And his cheeks, his red cheeks, she doesn’t think she can ever forget that colour. Not anymore. It paled in comparison to the blood that splashed the rocks, the blood that was now encrusted on Kakashi’s cheeks—)  
  
“Are you okay?” She remembers her companion, her only teammate, and turns her head. His profile greets her, all hard lines and tense stances. In the pale moonlight, it’s hard to see and she has to squint. “Hey—”  
  
His hand is trembling. She feels distanced from this scene, like she’s watching it from outside the den. It’s only a dream. A nightmare, the terrible ones that you wake up from yelling for help. Kakashi’s hand is trembling as it holds the kunai and she can see the tear stains on his cheek.  
  
(and no, it’s real, it’s real, it’s—)  
  
A part of her is glad. Kakashi can feel after all.   
  
The rest of her is just weary and she drops her hand on his free one, ignoring the flinch and look he gives her. “Sensei should be here by morning.”  
  
He bites his lip, turning away for a moment. “Yes.” His voice is clipped and hoarse and she’s reminded again how of little she knows. All she can remember is being unable to breathe, her wrists raw and chaffed, the sickly-sweet smell of fear.   
  
“I’ll take first watch.”  
  
“No.” She squeezes his hand, marveling at the feel of it. Warm. Alive. Here. “I’ll keep watch too.”  
  
“....” He doesn’t argue, not ready to put that much effort in anything. She’s glad—she couldn’t fight either, her energy spent.  
  
And Obito’s still dead.  
  
She thinks she must be in shock, Kakashi catatonic. Obito dead.  
  
Repeating it doesn’t help. It doesn’t feel anymore real. A small stream flows nearby and she concentrates on it instead.  
  
Kakashi shifts slightly, letting her lean on him, they spend the night like that, waiting for dawn.  
  
When Minato finds them, they’re neither awake nor asleep, their hands linking each other to reality.

  
-x-

  
The future:

  
Her legs are straining as she runs, pumping more and more chakra into the soles of her feet. A mission gone wrong and all she has to tell of it are cuts and bruises and the burning of her thighs. The echo of footsteps—and for once, she wishes they were her teammates’—pushes her forward and up into the trees.  
  
There is no time to lose. Tired, she runs faster, listening for any sounds around her. Behind her she can hear the leaves rustle, the ragged breath of another, and she dives deeper into the foliage. She is from Konoha and navigating these towering trees is nothing.  
  
It’s only when the clearing comes up that she realizes the danger she might be in. Jumping down, she curls up slightly to take in the impact before taking off running once more. The night is dark, the clouds hiding the stars, and she can feel the bumps and curves of the terrain beneath her feet.  
  
And then nothing at all.  
  
She wakes up the next morning hidden in a ditch, her head throbbing from the fall. It’s deep and wet and she’s covered in a mix of dirt and leaves. Petting her head, her hand comes away slightly sticky, the blood mixed in with the mud.   
  
There’s a snap, the sound of a twig breaking, and she spends the next hour frozen. It’s only when a squirrel peaks over the lip of the hole that she finally moves. Crawling out, she scans her location, trying to clue in on any signs of being watched. A breeze blows, rustling the leaves, and all she can hear is the sound of her breathing.  
  
Nothing. No one. She might have lost them temporarily, then. Standing, she takes in the field—  
  
She’s been here before. She knows this place. Knows that stream and those logs and the golden grass that sways in place. Fish run through that river—“Sakura-chan, it’s cold!”—and those logs are piled in the perfect way to conceal a person.  
  
It takes her a full moment to stop staring, to stop listening for laughter and looking for colours of her team. A full moment and she runs to the log pile, scrambling into the small shelter.  A moment can make the difference between life and death and she must not forget that.  
  
It’s cool inside, cool and dry and she curls into herself as she settles into position. Her enemies could be out there still, searching for her, and with her head throbbing, she is no position to fight. A hand tentatively goes up to pet her head again, making sure no fresh blood was leaking through.  
  
Her other hand hits something slippery and she looks down to find the lid of a ramen cup, half-hidden in the dirt. She had been in here before as well, in a half-forgotten memory. A long time ago, back when Team Seven was whole and together.   
  
It comes to her in fragments—Kakashi disappearing half-way through the survival training, the cool water in the stream, the gnawing hunger. Naruto tried fishing with his hands, boasting that it was the way real men did it. Sasuke had ignored them both, tending to the fire instead, and she had looked for berries and nuts.  
  
Clearly, she remembers spending the night in here, hidden from the cold breeze of early spring.  
  
Sasuke had been on her right, Naruto on her left, and she didn’t sleep a wink that night. They were pressed against each other, all barely fitting in, and Naruto was too close and Sasuke too far. Their clothes tickled her bare arms and their breathing the only constant she had.  
  
In the dark, Sakura reaches out, only to grasp the thin air, her fingers unable to breach the barrier of time.   
  
It’s early the next day when she crawls out, her wounds healed and her legs ready to make the run home. As she reaches the border between the field and the trees, she takes one last look on the place.  
  
Naruto had made her promise not to interfere. The last battle was between the two of them and either they’d die or live, but she was not to interfere. Not like that time on the roof.   
  
And she had promised.  
  
But some promises are made to be broken.  
  
“I’m sorry Naruto.”  
  
She will not let their story be a tragedy.


End file.
